Left In The Ashes
by hawthornebae
Summary: Gale lives a lonely life in District Two, but his life soon takes a turn for the worse- or at least, in Gale's opinion. Rated M for strong languages and description
1. Chapter 1

The year is 4078, seventy eight years since the first Hunger Games, four years since the 75th Hunger Games, three years since the Third Quarter Quell, two since the Rebellion, and one year since Panem's official Declaration of Freedom.

And who is he kidding, Gale lives the good life. He has all the food he needs, all the girls he wants, and all the luxuries District Two can offer.

He fucks someone else every other night. He doesn't really care what they look like, or how old they are, or how drunk they are. He's normally pretty drunk by about that time, anyway.

A couple of times, he fucks Johanna Mason. She's something like a friend, and she can give him what he wants, because when the whiskey bottle is calling his name, he knows he needs to get high off of something other than morphling and trashy alcohol. Something like pain, and the first time she sees the blood running down his arm she runs away, and the second time she sees it she slaps him and she kisses him until he feels alive in a way only the blood-fuelled adrenaline can make him.

The next day, he sees her in work and they fake smile at each other. In light voices they discuss the documents, and Johanna's cat, and if Gale is coming to the party on Saturday.

(Four hours later, she sits on the sofa in his house and watches the mesmerizing dribble of his red blood make a tired rust-colored stain on the grey-carpeted gloom)

Gale doesn't really have much left to ask for. He has his family, and his estranged friends (he calls them at night sometimes, when his blood has turned into alcohol and ecstasy).

There are no woods in District Two: not like Twelve, Eleven and Six. The ground just sort of dissolves into a crumbly, white- yellow powder, which he doesn't like to walk on. (He knows it's called sand, but just because he knows what it is doesn't mean he has to like it.)

By the border leading to District One, Gale notices that the ground is a thicker, smooth gray clay. He thinks about this for a second and comes to the conclusion that he doesn't care.

Sometimes he wishes he had his hunting partner there with him. Like when he sees something she'd laugh at, and he turns to look at her because he knows she'll be there, and she isn't. Or when he's aiming his bow, and there are two targets there, and he whispers "left," so she knows to shoot the right, but he's the only one there. And when he lies in the bed at night and he moans the wrong name. her name, instead of whoever the hell's in the bed with him.

Honestly, the worst thing was when he was walking with his mother in Twelve, and he saw Peeta Mellark, Lover Boy, holding Katniss in his arms and calling her Catnip. It makes his head throb unevenly, like blood under a bruise, and the words he cannot say hurt his tongue as he thinks desperately that the nickname is his and nobody else's, and he wants to scream that Catnip is the girl from the woods, from before the Games, the girl who shared blackberries and arrows and smiles, the girl he knew better than himself, the girl who belonged to Gale.

But he knows it's stupid to be distracted with hopeless memories, and he reminds himself that memories never stopped Katniss Everdeen when she ran into her lover's arms, so instead he concentrates on his paperwork.

Bloody paperwork.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks pass, with no event. Gale spends his long days training the District 2- issued Police Corps, and snuffing out the little rebellious pro-Capitol fires. His long nights are spent with cheap whiskey and cheaper girls, and knots in long coils of rope by his bedside. He dates Johanna on and off; he writes Paylor long documents; he babysits for Annie; he tops up (and raids from) Johanna's morphling supply; he goes on crazy joyrides just for the adrenaline, which is better than any of the other drugs; he binge drinks, and cross-district runs, and sleeps about three hours a day.

On the whole, life continues as it always has done; in a strange maelstrom of chaos, order, grief, and bored violence.

It's the same for all the Victors that Gale knows. Sometimes he doubts their sanity, most of the time he doubts his own. But he babysits for Annie anyway, and talks to Haymitch, and (reluctantly) hangs out with Enobaria.

He never had very many friends back at home, and now that Katniss has gone, he pretends not to notice the awkward silences, the strange looks, the strained laughs. Johanna's the only one he can be himself around, and then all they ever do is argue.

He always comes back to her, even though she'll never be anything like Katniss, even though she walks away when he wakes up screaming, even though she has a darker sense of humour than anyone else he's ever met, because it's painfully obvious he's way too messed up for anyone else.

His nightmares are always the same. Fire, desolation, and a dead little girl. A young heart that burnt.

Sometimes he can swear he can hear her, a whisper in the corner of his mind.  
"It's okay, Gale," she whispers to him, the hint of her last smile in her voice. And he wants so desperately to believe her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Bye, Hawthorne." Gale looks up, surprised, and waves halfheartedly back at Paylor.  
"Six already?"  
She grins and rolls her eyes.  
"It's almost half eight, Gale. You really have no sense of time, don't you."  
"I tend to zone out," he shrugs, and drops his gaze back to the screen. "When'll you get out?" Paylor tilts her head, looking amused. He jerks his head impatiently.  
"Ms President, I don't know."  
She bristles. "Gale. You know I go by Paylor, or Commander, if you've pissed me off."  
Gale allows himself a small grin.  
"Paylor, then."  
She raises her eyebrows. "You still haven't answered my question.  
"I'll walk with you, if you like," he offers, checking his communicuff.

Paylor leans against his desk and waits for him to pack up.  
"How's Posy's cough?"  
Gale glances up at her and almost hides the look of guilt that flickers across his face, but Paylor can read people  
"You haven't seen her, have you."  
"Well, I've been really... We had that new project... I just got..." He trails off.  
"No. I haven't."  
Paylor clicks her tongue. Gale is pretty bad at apologies, and she's gotten used to his silences and his outbursts, and it looks like a quiet day today.

They walk outside, and she feels the night air envelope her. She got a lot of controversy for choosing to rule from Two, instead of the Capitol, or Thirteen. But it's on nights like this that she remembers why. Closing her eyes, she drinks in the city, the anger, the shouting, the laughter, the chaos, the craziness, the possibilities, the overwhelming life. Far from the lonely plasticity of the Capitol, or the grey, confining barracks of Thirteen, which she was locked up in all her life, until war broke out. She remembers the slow burn that built up in her body the day that war was anticipation had pulsed under her skin like an old bruise, had stained her mouth with an acidic excitement, had made her fingers tremble with an aching insecurity. She grins up at the sky. How sweet that first sip of air had tasted. Like honey, sticking to the back of her throat, numbing her lungs. Like freedom.

Gale watches her curiously, a corner of his mouth creasing. To him, Two is a prison. The crowds and the noise stifle him. He longs for the quiet, calm elysium of the Twelve woods; just him, and the wind, and-

He jerks at Paylor's sleeve, almost ripping loose a button.  
"C'mon. Let's go." His voice is harsher than usual and Paylor blinks a few times, returning to reality.

They continue walking along the sidewalk silently. Gale clears his throat awkwardly.  
"You want to-  
She cuts him off abruptly, "I'm around here. Desine Avenue", and smiles tightly at him.  
He nods, and rubs the back of his neck. "Bye."  
He drops his gaze to the dust so he doesn't have to watch her leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Back at the apartment, Gale slams the door behind him.

He stalks down the corridor to Johanna's room. Knowing that she won't be there, he sits down on her bed and stares at the wall. Johanna's probably with her shrink, who says stupid things like 'Everyone's okay' and 'You're healing' and, stupidest of all, 'The war's over.' That one made Gale laugh, though not as hard as Johanna laughed, because the war's never going to end.  
All the Victors know that.

aveSo she's at the shrink, or she's calling Annie. Johanna spends an exorbitant amount of money on inter-District calls, because she adores Mini Finnick like a second mother. Gale thinks it's because she doesn't hany other family. Being alone so long can do funny things to your head.

If Johanna had her way, Gale would be living in Four, but he hates it there. Not that he doesn't hate Two, of course. He just hates Four more.

The phone rings noisily. Gale ignores it.

It rings again.  
"Shut UP!"  
The phone does not reply.

Gale waits, and after a couple more rings, Johanna's tinny recording plays. "If I'm not here, I'm probably at the crazy house. If I am here, I'm probably ignoring you, so fuck off."  
To Gale's surprise, it's his mother's trembling voice which answers.  
"Gale, you need to... you need to come home." She swallows. "Posy's sick, Gale. Real sick."


End file.
